To Belong
by Littleforest
Summary: [Complete] One-Shot. Harry Potter had never really liked Christmas. This year would be different though, especially if Mrs Weasley had any say in the matter.


**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.**

 **A/N –** Hello, one and all, and welcome to another Harry Potter one-shot. This one is set about a year and a half after the Battle of Hogwarts, and it's very much a Christmas story. I wrote it on a bit of a whim, so I hope it doesn't feel too rushed. As always, it contains plenty of angst (because it wouldn't be me without it) but it also contains a little bit of holiday fluff to get you through the holiday season! So, without further ado, enjoy…

* * *

 **~ To Belong ~**

* * *

If he was being entirely honest with himself, Harry Potter had never really liked Christmas.

That wasn't to say that he didn't appreciate its intrinsic value, or that he didn't understand why _other_ people liked it. He did, on both counts.

The issue was, he'd just never really felt…part of it before.

Having been an orphan for as long as he could remember, he'd missed out on what he knew a lot of people took for granted. It was a gap in his experience that the Dursleys should have filled, but they obviously hadn't, and instead he'd always been left on the outside, always watching _other_ people celebrate, but never really joining in himself…

Of course from the moment he'd arrived at Hogwarts as a small, naïve eleven year old, Ron and Hermione had done their best to make the day better for him. They would make him a part of their celebrations, and Ron had even arranged for his mum to send Harry presents each year, just so that he would have something else to open. Harry had appreciated that more than he could ever say in words, particularly that first year when he hadn't been expecting anything at all, but it had still very much felt as if he was opening presents from someone else's mother, not his own.

And in truth, it had only made the absence of Lily and James Potter all that more stark. Friends, as good as they were, could not replace parents on a day that should, first and foremost, be about family.

Of course, _this_ Christmas - only the second one since the Battle of Hogwarts had left their world irrevocably changed – was already shaping up to be one of the worst yet.

The first year after Voldemort's demise had been difficult, of course it had, but everything had still been fresh then, and everyone had still been in shock. No one had expected to celebrate Christmas properly, which had actually made it easier for Harry to get through the holidays without breaking down.

Now though, it seemed as if there was an expectation again that they would at least _try_ to celebrate Christmas. That they would sing songs, and drink wine, and eat far too much food, and be happy…

Except Harry still very much felt the absence of everyone he had lost over the course of his life. Not just his parents either, but also Remus, Sirius, Tonks, Dobby, Fred…

Harry ran his hand through his messy, dark hair, then tried to smooth it down again. He was supposed to be arriving at the Burrow in ten minutes, ready to enjoy the festivities with the Weasleys. Instead he just felt like going back to bed. The only reason why he wasn't doing precisely that was because Molly Weasley had asked him to be there, and despite the fact that she was Ron's mum, not his, he'd never been able to say no to her.

It had been hard enough telling her that he wanted to live on his own.

Fresh from the Battle of Hogwarts, tired, and hungry, and scared, Harry had quickly discovered that – despite having defeated Voldemort and essentially saved their world - he had been left with nowhere to live. The Dursleys wouldn't have let him stay at Number Four even if he'd wanted to go, and his preferred choice – Hogwarts – was in ruins. Grimmauld Place was out of the question too since the Death Eaters had gained access to it towards the end, but even if it had been an option, Harry wasn't sure he would have taken it.

Mrs Weasley, picking up on his difficult home situation even through her own unimaginable grief, had quietly told Harry that he was to come to the Burrow to sleep on the spare bed in Ron's room until he was ready to move on. Harry had immediately protested, hating the fact that he would only be adding yet another burden onto a family that was struggling enough as it was, but Ron had told him he was being an idiot and that he should just do as he was told. When that hadn't worked, Ginny had eventually guilted him into staying by making the point that it would probably offend her mother if he didn't.

Harry had always hated the thought of disappointing Mrs Weasley, so in the end, he had reluctantly agreed.

Harry had stayed for a year – all the while feeling like an imposter in a family that wasn't his - and then just after his nineteenth birthday, he had found a flat for himself in muggle London, and he had moved out of the Burrow the very next week. Mrs Weasley had cried when he'd told her he was leaving, but she had seemed to understand why he wanted some time to himself.

And in the end, the move _had_ been good for him. He still saw his friends every day, and he spent a lot of time with Ginny, but the time on his own had given him the chance to…regroup. To work out who he was without Voldemort inside his head, to work out who he wanted to be. For a boy who'd never really been free – who had lived in a cupboard, then a spare bedroom, then a dormitory, then his best mate's room, Harry had revelled in the freedom of finally having a space that was entirely his own.

It got lonely sometimes, of course it did, especially on those nights when he woke up screaming from a nightmare, but Harry knew that it was a small price to pay to ease the burden on the Weasleys. Things were hard enough for them as it was; they didn't need the added pressure of dealing with his demons as well.

Anyway, as much as he missed the Weasley family, Mrs Weasley had told him that he'd always be welcome at the Burrow, no matter what. Despite the fact that he would never dream of taking them up on it now, Harry was grateful. He had never had that security before – a place to go to if everything went wrong, and his chest still constricted at the thought the safety net the Weasleys had given him.

That was why he was going today. He wouldn't have minded spending the day alone, but Mrs Weasley had asked him to come to their Christmas dinner, so go Harry would.

At the very least, it would be nice to be with family at Christmas, Harry told himself, smoothing down his hair for the tenth time. Even if it wasn't his own.

* * *

Despite his best intentions, he ended up arriving at the Burrow fifteen minutes late. They must have been waiting for him as well, because he was accosted by a fierce redhead as soon as he stepped through the kitchen door.

"Harry, you're finally here!"

Harry just managed to put his armful of presents down onto the kitchen table before Ginny, his girlfriend, pulled him into hard kiss that took his breath away. Harry returned it with vigour, despite the fact that he had last seen her only yesterday, and that he would probably see her again tomorrow.

"Give it over, you two," came a grumble from the doorway. Harry reluctantly pulled away from Ginny and smirked at his best friend.

"Nice to see you too," Harry told Ron, refusing to move his arm from Ginny's shoulder. "Hermione here yet?"

"Yeah," Ron replied, eyes lighting up. "We're at her mum and dad's tomorrow."

"You're going with her?" Harry asked, eyebrows. "Big step."

"Nah, not really," Ron replied, his slightly squirming body giving away his apprehension. "I've met them before."

"Yeah, but Christmas dinner is different," Harry replied, enjoying teasing his friend. "It's all about the in-laws. And, you know, being accepted into the family…"

"Yes, it is," Ginny said cheerfully, linking her arm in Harry's as she began to pull him into the other room. "Which is why _you're_ here, Harry."

"Ginny…"

Ginny ignored him and pulled him into the living room, where the rest of the Weasleys had evidently settled down for the day.

Harry blinked as his eyes tried to adjust to the lights and colour. The room was decorated so haphazardly with all manner of decorations – some of them obviously muggle – that it created a sense that something had exploded in there. There was tinsel on almost every surface, and Christmas lights on every wall, and the tree, covered in even more of the tinsel and lights and little moving baubles, stood proudly in the corner. It was a little lop-sided, but so was the Burrow itself, and Harry thought it was brilliant.

As for the family, Mr and Mrs Weasley were sat together in the large armchair by the fire, singing cheerfully along to the music playing on the Wireless. George and Percy were playing a spirited game of chess, whilst Bill and Fleur looked on, and Charlie was reading a book on the sofa – or at least, he would have been, had he not fallen asleep. His light snores added to the other noises the general chaos of the room, and Harry loved that as well.

It was so different to the Dursleys that Harry's smile grew so big it almost hurt. He might not be one of them exactly, but he was glad he had made himself come.

"Harry!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, finally noticing his entrance. "You're here!"

She stood and immediately walked over to pull him into a warm hug. Harry gripped her a little more tightly than was strictly necessary, and was sad when she finally pulled away.

"Hi, Mrs Weasley," Harry replied. "Thanks for inviting me."

"It's Molly, Harry," Mrs Weasley told him. It was a conversation they'd had over and over again when Harry had been staying at the Burrow, but he just couldn't make himself say it. It had been quite literally beaten into him as a kid; respect your elders…

"Sorry," he said quietly. She just patting him affectionately on the cheek and smiled sadly at him.

Mr Weasley stood and made his way over to shake Harry's hand. He always seemed to recognise that Harry wasn't really one for extended physical contact – the two Weasley woman, and perhaps Hermione, being the only exceptions – so he always avoided giving him hugs, even though he gave them readily to his children.

Harry appreciated it more than he could say, and he was impressed once again by how much Mr Weasley just…noticed. The man had been a pillar of strength for his family over the last year and a half, and Harry knew that without Mr Weasley, none of them – Harry included – would have made it through the aftermath of the battle intact.

"Hi, Mr Weasley," Harry greeted warmly.

"Hello, Harry," Mr Weasley replied with a smile. "How are you? We haven't seen you for a while."

Harry flushed slightly and dropped his gaze. It hadn't been deliberate exactly. He'd just had a lot of stuff to deal with – mainly inside his own head – and it had seemed better not to push his own problems on to them.

"He's here now," Mrs Weasley said, saving Harry from having to respond. "That's what matters."

Harry swallowed hard and forced out a smile. She was too kind to him. He wanted to tell her how much it meant, but he couldn't find the words. She smiled knowingly at him, and he hoped that meant she understood anyway.

"Come on, Harry," George called before the moment could grow awkward, pointing to their ongoing chess game. "I need your help."

Harry smiled and made his way over. He was terrible at chess, but he appreciated them including him all the same.

* * *

The rest of the day flew by after that. They played games, sang songs, swapped presents, and told stories; some of them funny, some of them sad. The absence of Fred was obvious, but the Weasleys seemed to be getting through it with a grace that Harry was intensely jealous of.

All too soon, after all the food had been eaten and the wine drunk, Harry thought it was time for him to head home. He waited for a lull in the conversation, then decided to make his move.

"I…er…I think it's time I was heading back to my flat," Harry said, clearing his throat. The room quietened, and Harry shifted slightly, wondering why they were looking at him like he'd grown two heads.

"You're not going to stay here tonight?" Ron asked, looking genuinely confused. Hermione was sat in his lap, frowning at him, and he could tell that she didn't understand either.

"I…don't want to impose," Harry said awkwardly. He already felt bad enough for staying as long as he had. Surely they would want some time alone as a family...?

"Impose?" Mr Weasley asked. His voice was quiet, measured. Harry wondered what that meant.

"Yeah, you know," Harry continued. He muddled on. "On your family. I…erm…I'm grateful you invited me, since I didn't really have anywhere else to go, but – "

"That's not why we invited you," Mrs Weasley interrupted with a frown.

"Harry?" Ginny began. Harry's gaze dropped to the floor. Why was this so weird for them? He was trying to get out of their way…

"Did you really think you were invited because we felt sorry for you?" George asked.

"I...er…"

"Harry," Mrs Weasley began. "We wanted you to be here, with us. Christmas is a time for family."

Harry dropped his gaze again. "But I'm not part of your family."

Harry hadn't expected them to cheer at the comment, but he was unprepared for the tears that immediately sprang to Mrs Weasleys eyes. He immediately wanted to take back the words, but he couldn't.

"Harry…" she choked out, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat. He could hear mumblings from the others, but he only had eyes for her.

She glanced at her husband once, then at her children, then at Harry, and then, without another word, she fled the room. Harry stood stock still in the aftermath, and wondered if it was too late to run away.

"You should go after her, Harry," Mr Weasley said, gently but firmly, pointing to kitchen door. Harry nodded numbly and began to make his way into the kitchen. God, he was such an idiot. He'd ruined it. He'd ruined everything...

He stepped slowly into the kitchen, full of guilt and fear, and found Mrs Weasley at the kitchen table, surrounded by leftovers and gently sobbing into her hands.

"Mrs Weasley," he forced out. He hated himself. "I'm sorry. Please, I didn't mean to upset you…"

He watched with trepidation as she took one look at him and pulled herself up from the table. She made her way slowly over to him. He was terrified, and for a brief moment, he was scared she was going to hit him – however different she was to his Aunt – right up until she gently pulled him close and wrapped her arms around him in the warmest hug he'd ever received.

He sank into it, and allowed his own arms to wrap around her.

"I don't understand," Harry mumbled into her shoulder.

"We want you here, Harry," she said, pulling away slightly. She kept her hands on his shoulders and he couldn't find the strength to shrug them off. "Not because you're Ron's friend, or because you're Ginny's boyfriend, or because you don't have anywhere else to go, but because you are part of this family. You're one of us, and it wouldn't be the same without you here."

"But – "

"No buts," she interrupted gently. "I realise that you haven't had much experience of real family life – not with those dreadful Dursleys – but you are one of us. It doesn't matter what your name is, whose blood you share, or what colour your hair is, okay? It doesn't even matter that you don't live here anymore. You are one of us, Harry Potter."

"But…"

"Harry…" she began gently, but he couldn't let her finish. He had to get this out.

"But what if…?" Harry paused, trying the think of a way to say it without offending his girlfriend. "I love Ginny, you know I do, but what if…I mean, we can't predict the future. What if she and I…?"

He was used to people leaving him, and he had spent a great deal of his childhood alone. Despite the fact that the war was over, he still found it difficult to imagine that he had a future.

"No matter what happens between you and Ginny, you're part of this family, Harry," Mrs Weasley told him, holding him firmly. "We _love_ you, and you belong here with us."

"I don't…" Harry began. "I don't know how to be part of a family. I seem to keep messing this up. I upset you…"

"No, Harry," Mrs Weasley told him gently. "You didn't. I was upset because we obviously haven't done enough to convince you that we care about you. I'm sorry for that, I truly am."

He felt like he had disappointed her again, and his heart urged him to make it right. To make her understand how much her support had meant to him over the years.

"I kept the jumper you knitted me when I was eleven," Harry told her quietly. "I kept it even though it obviously doesn't fit anymore. It meant a lot to me. It still means a lot to me."

"Oh, Harry…"

"I don't want you to think that I don't care," he told her. "Because I do. I just…"

"Didn't think we felt the same way?"

"I didn't know what to think," Harry admitted. "It's a little new to me."

"It'll just take some practice, I expect," Mrs Weasley said. Her eyes were watery but she smiled all the same. "Today was a good first step. Another one would be to come round and see us more often."

"That would be…good," Harry said, and in that moment, he meant it. He had been dreading Christmas this year, but suddenly he was already starting to look forward to next year's celebrations. Because he finally had someone to celebrate with. A family.

"Welcome to the Weasley family, Harry," Mrs Weasley said softly, perhaps guessing where his thoughts had gone.

"Yeah, welcome, you daft git," Ron told him, cheerfully slapping him on the back as he came into the room. The rest of the Weasleys weren't far behind, and to Harry's relief they didn't seem to be mad at him.

"You're my brother," Ron continued seriously. "Whether you and Ginny stay together and have disgustingly cute babies or not, you'll always be my brother."

His words were echoed by his brothers, and even though Ginny stuck her tongue out at Ron, she came to stand by Harry's side. The others crowded into the small kitchen, but it didn't feel claustrophobic. Instead, he felt part of something. He smiled and soaked up the feeling.

The doubts inside him were quieter now. He didn't think that they would ever disappear completely, but they were being drowned out by other thoughts; laughter love, family.

Belonging.

Harry smiled again. He was part of the Weasley family now, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

 **A/N -** So what did you think? Too fluffy? Too angsty? I found it really hard to hit a balance between the two, and overall, I'm not sure I'm really happy with the story. Still, I'm glad I wrote it, and I hope you all get something from it at least. If so, I'd really appreciate any thoughts you'd care to give (good or bad). I always enjoy hearing from my readers and your reviews have made me a better writer, so keep them coming! For now though, and as always, thanks for reading!


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